


The Watching Giant

by EvaGalana



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-02 12:03:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2811284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EvaGalana/pseuds/EvaGalana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It always amazed him how someone so small, so seemingly insignificant, and completely unfettered could prove so overwhelmingly effective in battle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Watching Giant

He watched her with impassive eyes as she dodged beneath the darkspawn's lunge, twisting around as she brought her daggers in front to drive both blades deeply into its sides, twisting as she tore into its kidneys. It stumbled with a growl, falling to the earth, as The Warden turned about, seeking out more foes to fell.

It always amazed him how someone so small, so seemingly insignificant, and completely unfettered could prove so overwhelming effective in battle.

It was with this thought that he turned about, his greatsword sweeping outward, cleaving the head from one nearby darkspawn, continuing its trajectory to slice deeply into the side of another. As it bellowed out its agony, the warrior shook the sword free, giving the corrupt creature a kick that sent it spiraling away and to the ground.

He turned and watched as she spun around, her branded features twisting in joy as she counted each of their companions, still on their feet. The battle had been difficult, but not more than any other they had thus far engaged. The expression upon the tiny woman's face was indescribable to him. Not that he lacked vocabulary - he had learned much of the language of the bas since he had arrived upon Ferelden's shores.

No, it was putting the expression to one of the words he had bothered to learn since arriving that had proven difficult.

He hefted his greatsword, scowling yet again at the ill fit of the hilt in his strong hand. Almost hating putting the inferior blade to the holster at his back, he stood, waiting, his keen eyes scanning the battlefield, fully aware that an enemy could emerge at any time. And, with the tiny woman gathering up her Crow and the Templar, he was certain his were the only eyes wary.

A great laugh, like the tinkling of fine, broken glass, brought his attention back to the woman. Blood coated her leather armor, dripped from the blades she still wielded, but the smile upon her face was wild and sure. Cocky. Yes, he nodded, straightening slightly as he allowed his usual scowl to form upon his face. That was the term. He had heard the Old Mage refer to The Warden as such before. And the giant agreed. She was untrained, completely wild. From her behavior within the camp to her prowess upon the battlefield, she reminded him of an untrained imekari, although he could not imagine one of their own young being as riotous.

It was the shriek of joy that erupted from the dwarven woman that turned the stoic giant's attention back to her. She had jumped up into the Templar's arms, planting a firm kiss upon his cheek. So shortly after battle, the Qunari was at a loss as to the reason of the overt display of affection. Knowing the tiny Warden, it could be for any reason.

Her Crow merely chuckled, shaking his blond head, as he picked at the corpses at their feet.

DA:O

Joy practically burst from her lungs as she danced along, easily side stepping around or over the bodies of the darkspawn they had just killed. This was freedom! She opened her arms wide, lifting her face to the sky. Her people truly did not know what they were missing, sequestering themselves beneath the heavy, oppressive earth as they did.

Of course, just less than a year ago, she had entertained fantasies of floating up into the open sky, should she ever be cursed to stand upon the surface of the world.

What had she been thinking?

The grin upon her face was contagious. Well, to most of her companions. Alistair could not help himself. If Natia smiled, he smiled. That cute, lopsided grin. She'd giggle like an idiot if only to see that grin.

And, of course, Zev would always smile, always chuckle, always laugh. She knew that he hid a deep pain within. She knew what that pain was, or rather, what it was to have that pain. People like them, throwaways, always had that pain. But Zev's friendliness was genuine, and she would crack an off colored joke just to hear one of his most genuine laughs.

Her large, brown eyes settled upon the huge figure of the Qunari in their midst. Smirking, she patted Alistair upon the chest, then sauntered over to where Sten stood.

His eyes, a strange lavender color, watched as she approached. Her smirk widened into a grin as she considered what new way to torment the stoic giant.

Apparently, he had the same idea.

"Strange," he muttered when she was in ear shot.

Frowning, she paused, staring up - and up - into his face. "What's strange?" she asked, continuing to walk until she stood just two feet from the quiet man.

"You look like a woman," the giant replied sternly, his eyes narrowing slightly as he watched her.

"Ah, so good of you to notice," Natia quipped, cocking a hip and putting an insolent hand to it. "Sten, are you flirting with me?" She teased, her voice dropping an octave. "I hope you're flirting with me." She winked at him, her full lips slipping into an easy smirk.

The giant in question blinked, and then scowled. "Speak proper words!" he declared, obviously frustrated by the woman's insistence upon using non-words.

"What?" she blinked up, her large eyes, so suited to the relative darkness of her subterranean home, confused. "That's a word, Sten. Just 'cause you Qunari don't know it doesn't mean it does not exist."

"Pashara," he swore, still maintaining his customary scowl. "I see you have no desire to speak logically…"

"Oh, no, no you don't," the dwarven woman warned, placing a tiny hand upon his muscular forearm. "You don't get outta that so easily. You dared to question my obvious femininity." She struck of pose, full lips pouting, batting her long lashes up at the giant. "I can't let that insult stand!"

They stood there, staring at one another, completely oblivious as the Templar and Crow checked the refugees they had just saved from the darkspawn.

"You play at being a warrior," the Qunari grumbled. "and yet you claim to be a woman."

"And?"

"You cannot be both woman and warrior."

Natia pulled in a long breath, her eyes unblinking as she stared up at the giant. "Well, actually," she said, rather softly. "Since I am a woman and I do fight - 'though I'm not a warrior like yourself or Alistair," she waved a negligent hand toward the other warden, "I s'pose I sure as stone can be both."

"Women are artisans, merchants or priests," the Qunari persisted. "They cannot be warriors."

"Why not?"

He sputtered out a long suffering sigh. "It is not what they are born to be."

"Says who?"

"The Qun dictates…"

"I'm not a Qunari, Sten," the dwarf said, rather patiently as she straightened her stance. "I'm a dwarf, y'know in case you haven't noticed the really big height difference between us."

"I am well aware." Came the rather dry comment. "And the Qun is practiced by human and elf as well."

Natia frowned up into the Qunari's impassive features, her eyes searching his face. The warrior did not understand the confusion that played across her expressive face, but remained silent, certain that she would eventually see the wisdom of his words.

Apparently she did not. "I am casteless, Sten," there was a fierceness in her voice, a challenge. Surprised, he merely stared at her, the frown still upon his face. "To my people, I am non-born." She poked a bloody finger into his armored chest. "Do you know what that means?"

They stood, silently regarding each other, the dwarf awaiting an answer, the Qunari uncertain how to answer. He choose to shake his head in the negative. An uncharacteristic move that surprised the tiny woman momentarily.

"It means that I, "she poked a finger into her chest, scowling, "don't exist!" she hissed. "I can't be a…whatchacallit…artisan! Or a merchant! No one would dirty their hands by touching anything I may have touched! And, by all the ancestors' tits, Sten! I'm a dwarf! We don't have priests!"

She was angry, her face red, her eyes narrowed. Sten frowned deeper at her rash and unnecessary display of emotion. She turned on her heel to leave, but was not quite finished. Before leaving him, she tossed over her shoulder, "Your Qun is no place for a dwarf, Sten. Get used to it!"

With those parting words, she left his side, stomping angrily away to join up with the Templar and Crow. Without looking back, she led the team away, to search out her companions, who had scouted ahead.

DA:O

He found himself watching her again. As always, when there was a lull in battles, and camp had been set, the tiny warden would make her way around the group, making certain to take time to speak with each of them.

The Witch always scowled at the open enthusiasm the young dwarven girl displayed whenever she spoke of her magic or her time within the Wilds. For the young casteless thing, the Witch's comparative freedom under the open sky was a source of great enjoyment.

She would speak, ever so briefly, to the Elder Mage, who would no doubt offer up some of her advice, no doubt gained over the decades of her life spent within the Circle. Sten shook his head. At least the mage was correct - the dwarven Warden had a duty to everyone else; a duty to end the Blight. It was pleasing that someone else within their motley group understand duty above all else.

The Golem, Shale, surprisingly took the young dwarf's questions and company with great patience. Given how she would occasionally compare the near nervous energy of the dwarf to a bird. The Warden would merely blink up owlishly at the moving rock, offer up a clever quip, and then giggle enthusiastically at whatever comment the golem bestowed.

Next in her path of talkative destruction was always the other dwarf. Oghren. The Qunari snorted. It was obvious the young casteless was in awe of the man. He was, after all, once revered as a great warrior and the husband of the only paragon the dwarven race had for ages. She usually kept her conversations with the drunkard brief, however. Her normally cheerfulness could not always counter the eternal pessimistic drunken state the dwarf kept himself in.

The Bard was always one to take up much of the Warden's attention, and the Qunari could not help but notice that the Orlesian took any opportunity to touch the dwarven woman - no, she was just a girl - at every opportunity. The Bard's constant prattling about the god of the bas used to irritate the Qunari, however, he now just took it in stride. He noticed, however, that The Warden seemed to enjoy such conversations, commenting how it made more sense than worshiping their ancestors. He merely shook his head whenever he heard such comments from the dwarf. More than a little disheartened by her lack of insight.

Normally her conversations with the Crow were long, punctuated with much laughter and smiles. This night, however, their conversation seemed to take a more serious note, with Natia backing from the elf, offering up an apology. The elven assassin watched the dwarven woman walk away with an expression upon his face that the giant could not discern.

He watched as she approached the Templar. Her fellow warden watched her with a careful expression upon his face. The Qunari knew that the human warden had sought to gain the affections of the dwarf - much as the elf had. He had been pleased that the young girl had the good presence of mind not to enter into a relationship with either man. Their duty - her first duty - was to defeat the Blight. Any such entanglements were an unnecessary distraction.

He noted that this night she did not come to speak with him, but merely passed him by on her way to her tent, ignoring his presence with a stiff back and blank expression. A frown formed between his brow, and he watched as she ducked into her tent for the night.

For some reason he was ill equipped to understand, he felt her absence most keenly.

DA:O

"I hereby invoke the Right of Conscription," Natia's voice, sharp with fatigue, echoed throughout the suddenly still chamber. "Loghain shall become a Grey Warden."

As the Senior Grey Warden nodded his dark head, the Templar forced his way to his Kadan's side, shouting as her, "What? No, Loghain will not become a Grey Warden!" His brown eyes narrowed in anger and, the Qunari was certain, hatred as he glared down at the diminutive woman. "Becoming a Grey Warden is a privilege, not a punishment!"

"Alistair," Natia said, her voice now soft as she moved closer to her friend, reaching out one tiny hand to try and clasp his arm. The Templar, the fool, snarled at his small friend, stepping back and away.

"Please, Alistair," the dwarven woman all but begged, her eyes pleading, exposing too much of what she was feeling to all around. Sten stepped closer, standing in front those human nobles in the chamber, trying to block their view of their quickly crumbling Warden.

"If you make him a Grey Warden," Alistair was hissing out, "you diminish us all. You make a mockery of what Duncan and everyone who died at Ostagar stood for."

Why was the Senior Warden, this Riordan, not saying anything in Kadan's defense? Was he not aware of the lengths this tiny woman had gone, to gather her armies, quell their foes, and find his Soul? Sten scowled at the Orlesian warden, waiting for him to speak, to remind the Templar that it was he that had suggested that Loghain - an accomplished general and strategist - take this Joining. But, he stood still, watching, silently, as the fool Templar continued to barrage at Natia all his foul and poisoned words.

"I never wanted to be king," he declared, reaching for his sword, "but I will take the throne if it means an end to this," he swiped a gauntleted hand towards General Loghain, who remained quiet and impassive, his cold blue eyes fixed upon the tiny form of the dwarf before him. "stain upon humanity."

The queen spoke up, and the pair argued. Sten closed his ears to the mess of words that came from the two, his eyes fixed upon the face of Natia. She was quiet, her face still, betraying none of how she was feeling. The Qunari, for so long, had wanted the young dwarf to keep a tight rein upon her emotions, telling her time and again that her overt display of emotion would be her undoing. Now, seeing her impassive and emotionless, and the warrior felt no satisfaction. A strange empty feeling hit him, and he was, yet again, unable to understand the feeling or its cause.

He knew for certain, however, that he wished that the fool Templar would quiet his raging, accept what his commander had ordered, and get to the matter of dealing with the Blight.

As Natia was doing.

Finally, she spoke up, reminding the human Warden of his obligation and promise to Anora - that they would be wed and assume the throne together. Alistair scowled down at her, hate in his eyes, but he gave a curt nod, glaring first at the queen who would soon be his wife, and then the general, soon to be both brother and father-in-law. Sten allowed a scoffing snort through his nose, and the Templar turned to glare at the giant. At least now he showed some backbone.

And yet, with that revelation, the giant did not allow himself a sense of success. One look at The Warden - his Kadan - told him all that it had cost her.

DA:O

She was too small, standing on the dais, next to the Queen. The Templar King stood behind the pair, his emotions clear upon his face as he glared down at the tiny form of the Dwarven Warden. The man was a fool, and always would be one.

Offered a boon, she requested aid for her people, who continued their battle against the darkspawn in their underground dwellings. The Templar King's eyes lit slightly at the request, and the Queen demurely nodded her blond head, granting the same. As the ceremony closed, The Warden's companions drifted among the crowd of well wishers. Sten, having no stomach for it all, took a position by the large double doors at the chamber's end, watching as The Warden turned to speak to the fool King.

He watched, as he always had. His eyes were fixed upon her as she turned away from her once-friend, and made her rounds of speaking with her companions, each in their usual turn. He would have no idea of what each would say to the girl, but he knew that this would be the last time she would speak with most of them.

As for himself…he suddenly found himself torn. He had his answer to the Arishok's question. His shoulders shifted, and he felt the familiar weight of his blade - Asala - upon his back. Lavender eyes sought out the small form of the dwarven woman, finding her standing before the elven assassin, speaking to him with her head bent close to his. That familiar feeling came over the Qunari, and still he had no name of it. He did not hate the elf, exactly, but did not trust him. At least, he did not trust him with his Kadan. He did not like it when she stood so close to the elf, disliked that the elf's eyes would soften in her presence, or that he would reach over to brush a stray lock of her red-brown hair from her large eyes.

She was his Kadan - blood-sister. Finder of his soul, his…friend. He felt it deeper than that, and found it curious. Those eyes closed momentarily at the thought, opening only when he felt her familiar presence before him.

"Well," she said, her feet shifting slightly in a movement he had long ascribed to nervousness. "Looks like we did it."

Sten allowed the smallest of smiles to cross his face. "You have defeated the Blight, Kadan," he said, his deep voice rumbling over the small woman, who flushed with pleasure at his praise. "I should tell you, that I now have my answer. I shall be returning home."

Those huge eyes blinked at him, and her mouth worked as though seeking words that would not come forth. Finally, she asked, "You are leaving Ferelden?" Sten nodded. "But…I had hoped that you would…" she fidgeted a bit more, "…that you would stay with me." She finished this lamely, her flush deepening at the childish whine that penetrated her voice.

"The Blight has ended, Kadan," Sten reminded her, as though she truly needed the reminder. "And my task has ended. I shall return to my home in Seheron."

"Ahm…well," her foot twisted around behind her, her hands wringing before her. "When were you leaving?"

"In three days' time, Kadan."

"Maybe…" she lifted her face, varying emotions running across her features. "Maybe I could…y'know?…go with you?"

Sten stared down at the woman for a moment, thinking about her request. A dwarf in Seheron? The Qunari warrior had learned a great many things in his time in Ferelden: that he enjoyed cookies; that humans and elves were perhaps the most overly emotional creatures in Thedas; that sometimes a straight path is not the quickest path to victory. But, he truly learned that dwarves had no place within the Qun. And his dwarf…his Kadan…less so.

However, he found himself nodding to her, acquiescing to her request to accompany him. For he had learned one final lesson in his time in Ferelden: he had come to care for this strange, overly emotional, completely illogical creature that was Natia Brosca.

And he found he would miss her should he leave her behind.

DA:O

The salty breeze ruffled through the tight braids, swinging them slightly against his neck. A woofing sound brought his attention from the water back to the docks. Salroka, Natia's warhound, spotted him, and raced ahead of his diminutive mistress, stubby tail wagging happily as he bounded toward the Qunari.

The elven assassin walked beside the small warden, speaking to her in earnest tones. Sten could not make out the words, but the expression upon the assassin's face spoke of loss and regret. A frown crossed the warrior's face as Zevran placed a halting hand upon Natia's forearm, bringing their progress forward to a halt. She turned, smiling at her friend as he held out something clasped between his fingers, speaking again in earnest tones. A small frown crossed the dwarf's rather pretty face as her gaze fixed upon the object in the elf's hand. Sten watched as Zevran pulled one of her hands up, palm facing upwards, to place the object into her tiny hand. The elf's words ceased, and he watched the dwarven girl before him carefully. She whispered something to her elven friend, taking his hand back, placing the object back into his palm and closing his fingers around it. She then stood on tiptoe, kissing the elf's cheek affectionately. Then, with a final, small smile, she turned, leaving Zevran on the docks.

Her eyes met his, and her face lit with genuine pleasure. Sten bowed slightly as his Kadan made her way to his side, turning her face upwards to grin up at him. Salroka pounced around them, barking happily, urging them forward for this newest of adventures. Natia turned back once more, waving a farewell to the elf who stood watching as she then turned to board the ship heading for Seheron.

Sten turned, offering a small nod to the elf. Zevran lifted his face, nodding back to the Qunari, admitting defeat with grace. A flippant grin crossed his handsome face, and he tossed the object in his hand once into the air, catching it easily. As he pocketed it, he nodded once more, and then turned and walked briskly back into the city.

Sten turned to see that Kadan was watching the exchange between the men, a curious expression upon her face. Salroka barked at the two, telling them they were taking too long, and to hurry. Another of his rare smiles crossed his face as he stepped to the dwarf's side, waiting as the ship disembarked.

He realized then that it had not been merely the return of Asala to his hand that had completed him. A glance down showed him that Natia was leaning against the rails, the wind ruffling through her wild locks. Hesitantly, he placed a huge hand upon one narrow shoulder, and she glanced up, smiling at him as she waited to embark on yet a new adventure.

His sword completed him physically, marking him as a Sten in the Beresaad, the vanguard of the Qunari race..

But, it was his Kadan thatcompleted him fully - his heart and his soul.

And as long as his Kadan willed it, he would ever remain by her side.

**Author's Note:**

> Ah, well, this is in answer to a Cheeky Monkeys challenge "The Impossible" from a few years ago, which I admit, I was the instigator of. In my defense, I had no intention of answering it, but ventisquear is quite the taskmaster…


End file.
